


Concerned

by yeaka



Category: Concerned Children's Advertisers "House Hippo" PSA Commercial, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, House Hippo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond finds Lindir with a secret.





	Concerned

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: House Hippo PSA. The quickest excitement to disappointment whiplash of my childhood.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Elrond turns off the faucet and withdraws his glass. He takes one sip on the spot to appease his parched throat, and the rest will wait at his bedside; he feels foolish for trying to sleep without the customary supply there. It only resulted in a trip to the kitchens in the dead of night, when not a single other soul is around. With all the candles long blown out, the only light comes from the tall windows spotting the pantry. Well out of the nearest bar of starlight, Elrond pauses for another sip, then turns towards the ajar door.

Someone beats him to it, slinking quickly through the opening, casting a few furtive looks around, then darting to a cabinet. Elrond, hidden in the darkness, watches in surprise as the familiar figure rummages about. Having raised two troublemakers (and one semi-troublemaker), he knows the mingled look of guilt and mystery well. Yet he’s never known anyone in his home to raid the kitchens so secretively, a member of his staff least of all.

 _Lindir_ least of all. But Elrond’s spent enough time with his young attendant to recognize the chestnut hair pulled back into a night braid, the long neck beneath and the slender features of a pale profile. Licking his lips nervously and casting about again, though he apparently already thinks the kitchens empty, Lindir withdraws a store of potato wedges and starts laying them out on a tray atop the nearest empty table. To Elrond’s immense confusion, he then begins to spread peanut butter across them. It’s an odd snack, especially for an eater so picky as Lindir, and an odder time for it. Lindir is careful to put the peanut butter jar back in the exact same spot, even facing the label properly, and then he’s lifting the tray up and tiptoeing out with hunched, nervous shoulders.

Elrond, dazed by the display, follows.

As silent as his slippers will allow, Elrond tails his lovely assistant down his own halls, keeping a safe distance, half expecting Lindir to turn around and explain at any moment—Lindir is the _last_ person he would expect to keep a secret from him, and he doesn’t understand why _this_ is being treated like a secret in the first place. Lindir is welcome to the kitchens—at the usual hours he’s normally so strict about keeping—and to his own tastes, however abnormal.

As Elrond assumed he would, Lindir eventually reaches his own quarters. He balances his tray carefully on one hand as he opens his door and, fortunately for Elrond, doesn’t properly close it afterwards. It swings slowly shut behind him, only to ricochet lightly off the frame and crawl a few centimeters open again. Elrond approaches the crack, peering inside. 

Through the moonlight offered from Lindir’s balcony, Elrond watches Lindir come to kneel before the open closet. He sets the tray down on the floor and proceeds to sit patiently behind it, hands on his knees, staring at the floor.

Elrond, now confused to the point of mild worry for his often stressed and possibly cracking attendant, raps his knuckle twice against the door. It isn’t his style to sneak about in the shadows; he’s certainly done enough of that already. Lindir’s head shoots up at the noise, eyes saucer-wide. Elrond slips through the door and closes it behind himself, invoking a lord’s prerogative to enter Lindir’s quarters. He imagines Lindir will want this conversation kept private. 

He asks simply, carefully free of accusation, “What are you doing, Lindir?”

Lindir, for some odd reason, looks horribly guilty, as though he’s been caught in the most compromising position imaginable, when really, he hasn’t done a thing truly _wrong_. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Before it can, something rustles in the closet, and Elrond does a double take—from his new angle inside the room, he can see the disheveled nest of string and lint tucked beneath Lindir’s hanging robes. Out of it pokes a tiny head, grey and flat, with two little eyes, impossible small ears, and a broad snout. The creature opens its mouth to yawn, exposing white teeth, ears flicking, and Lindir nudges the tray closer.

The animal plods slowly out of its nest on thick, stumpy legs, crawling towards the food, and stops to chomp at the nearest wedge. Lindir’s pained expression melts into something fond and sweet. He reaches over to pet its slick back. The creature largely ignores Lindir’s doting attentions in favour of its food, while Lindir murmurs quietly, “I found a house hippo a few days ago. I moved its nest from the guest room it was in to my own closet, so it would trouble no other, and I have been... ah... feeding it, my lord...”

His cheeks have donned a short blush, like they often do when he thinks he’s set so much as a toe out of line. Elrond lifts a brow and merely asks, “Why have you kept this a secret?”

“Erestor would never approve,” Lindir sighs, shaking his head. Then he returns his gaze to Elrond and explains pleadingly, “I know it is hardly an appropriate pet, but it is not a rodent like it may seem. There is only one, and one alone cannot multiple, nor would it to any extreme had it a mate. And they are slow and... and gentle...” He looks convinced of his words, but then he gulps and adds, blushing deeper, “Well, I would not lie to you, my lord; it will defend its territory if necessary, nor is it the most hygienic thing to have about... but it sleeps most of the day, and it is just so... so...” He trails off, looking adoringly back at the house hippo. Elrond’s sure the word Lindir’s looking for is ‘cute.’

Elrond kneels down, slow and careful so as not to startle the creature, though it seems too busy licking crumbs off the tray to notice anything else. He can’t help but wonder if it’s safe to pick up. He imagines if it were, he would’ve seen the tiny creature poking out of Lindir’s pocket whilst he went about his normal routine. Then Elrond remembers that Lindir has felt the need to keep this a secret, and that it looks to have no interest in anything but food since its nest. 

More for Lindir’s affectionate smile than the interesting creature itself, Elrond decides, “In the morning, I will speak to Erestor about allowing it to remain in your quarters.”

Lindir lights up, murmuring breathlessly, “Thank you, my lord!”

Yawning again, the creature turns to putter off the tray. It drags a messy trail of round peanut-butter footprints behind it, giving Elrond some notion of Erestor’s protests. But he knows Lindir will have them cleaned up soon enough, and in the meantime, Lindir picks the house hippo up to place squarely in its nest again. Then he asks with a new tinge of guilty hope, “Will you watch it for me, my lord? I must go fetch a water tray for it to bathe in—I will only be a moment.”

Elrond nods, and as Lindir scurries off, Elrond moves one of the potato wedges into the nest. The house hippo makes a languid noise of gratitude and resumes happily eating.


End file.
